


Stanley Uris Grows Up

by Aestheticdenbrough



Series: losers growing up [3]
Category: IT (1990), IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bird Book, Birds, Gen, Puppy Love, Stanley Uris Has OCD - Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Start of a friendship, little league
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2019-06-14 19:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15395667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aestheticdenbrough/pseuds/Aestheticdenbrough
Summary: Stan finds solace in his newfound love for birds.





	1. A Sparrow, A Canary, And A Chicken

Stan takes his normal place on the park bench. He alternates swinging his legs back and forth, watching his feet as they take turns coming into his line of sight. A flash of movement catches his eye, bringing his gaze up.

He spots a birdbath that always seems to be empty, Derry doesn't have a very large bird population. He watches with a newfound interest, the edges of his lips curling up into a soft smile.

_They move so... Daintily. It's fascinating_. His attention is held completely though he never would have expected it to. The flick of the wings holding a majestic quality he's never witnessed before.

The bird flits away, Stan's eyes following and his lips drop to a frown, wishing it would just come back. He gets up from his spot, swinging his arms slightly as he walks, in tune with his steps, a set rhythm.

He arrives at the library, wandering down the aisle. Despite only having seven years under his belt, he'd never been much interested in the kid's section. With the problem of not knowing the _exact_ book he's looking for, he wanders for quite a bit.

He finds a book, a sparrow on the cover, poised and ready to soar off the page. _Majestic_ , Stan remembers from the one he'd seen in person. He holds the book at his side as he walks his way to the front desk, standing on his toes to appear taller to the elderly woman behind the desk.

She gives him a pitying glance, everyone has always seen him as a bit odd. She stamps the inside cover with the red ink, making Stan cringe. As far as he thinks, _red=angry_.

He takes the book when she hands it back to him, nodding a thanks to her. "Have it back in two weeks," she tells him, and he immediately makes a mental note to do so, tucking the book against his chest to walk it back home.

He steps on each block of the sidewalk twice, once with his right foot and once with his left, the alternating _still_ feeling uneven, leaving him stopping in his place to take a deep breath to calm himself. 

He continues, swinging his arms with his legs, having to close his eyes when the cracks in the sidewalk fill him with too much anger, finally sighing in relief when he reaches his front door, opening it quickly and taking in a fresh breath.

He turns to the door next, locking it but the click of the lock doesn't satisfy him, so he does it again, stomping his foot against the tile when it's still wrong, finally resting his forehead against the door tiredly when the third time finally calms him.

He slips off his loafers, wincing a bit at his socks on the welcome mat, having to step onto the hardwood floor, turning on his heel to go carefully up the stairs, using one arm to hold the book stiffly to his chest and the other to follow him up on the railing.

He finds his room, setting the book on the end of his bed before immediately going for his bedside drawer, taking out his purell hand sanitizer, squeezing several drops onto his hands, rubbing them together and feeling soothed by the idea of the cool gel.

He goes back to his bed, picking up the paperback book, studying the wear and tear around the edges but somehow it doesn't bother him. He looks over the one on front again, smiling softly at the resemblance to the one he'd seen this morning.

He sits on the bed, cross legged and his back against the headboard as he flicks through the pages, studying the feathers on each one, the intricateness of each single one on each bringing a smile to his face yet again, they just seem to _immaculately_ put together.

He finds one that catches his eye, a canary. Bright, yellow, characterized by it's lovely song. It sounds kind, the kind Stan would hope to meet. It could be nice, his own quietness could be balanced by the warble of the small creature.

He grabs his own notebook and a charcoal pencil, holding the page open with the canary, trying to capture the sheer perfectness of it in his rendering, erasing it frustratedly.

He starts with the face, sliding the pencil down smoothly to create the curve of the beak, having the most trouble trying to capture the life in the eyes, especially not being an experienced artist.

He sits there for probably hours, refusing to trace the image but he wanted a replica. He presses lightly on the page to make the lines of detail in their feathers, the part he considers most important. Freedom. _They're free to go wherever, not tied down anywhere_ , he thinks to himself with a sigh, possible jealousy growing within him.

He sets his pencil down, admiring his work, actually proud of himself, a rare occasion, usually it's a bottled frustration towards everything he does. _This is nice_ , he decides.

There's a soft knock on his door and then his mother peers in, coming in calmly, "What are you working on?" She asks with a smile, putting a hand on his shoulder which surprises him.

"Drawing, bird," he says simply as he starts drawing a branch under the bird's feet, his tongue sticking out in focus.

The drawing she sees over her son's shoulder may not be the best one in the world, but Andrea is proud of him nonetheless. "Do you want to put it up on the fridge?" She asks him, taking her hand back.

He nods with a small smile, he felt even better about the picture with the added validation, he stands, pulling the paper from the book with intricate care, wanting the edge to be completely straight and smooth, taking him at least a minute to perfect.

He hands it to her, taking her hand when she offers it to him. They walk down to the kitchen, she gets a circular magnet, popping it to the fridge with the paper under it.

Stan smiles, though something isn't right. He pinches the lower corners of the paper, straightening it so it's parallel to the top of the fridge, "Perfect?" He asks, looking up at his mother.

She looks at him with a reassuring smile, nodding and ruffling his dark curls, "Perfect," she agrees, going to the counter to continue preparing the chicken they were to eat for dinner.

"Mom! We can't eat that," Stan nearly shrieks, his brown eyes gone wide with offense. "It's a bird! It was pretty once!" He argues, pouting slightly at his mom.

"How about your dad and I eat it and I make you something else?" She suggests hopefully, looking nervous with what his reaction may be, having already dealt with years of her son being an extremely picky eater.

Stan nods hesitantly, at least knowing he wouldn't be offending the bird himself, "Okay," he says softly in agreement.

Dinner comes and goes, Stan feeling good about himself for not eating the chicken, _I want to know more_ , he tells himself, clearing his plate and heading back up to his room.

He prepares himself for bed, putting on his pajamas and brushing his teeth and slipping his socks on before jumping into bed excitedly. He lays under the covers on his side, sinking in comfortably and opening the book, leafing through until he finds the page about the flightless land bird.

His mom and dad come to the door to say goodnight, his mom bending down to kiss his temple, his dad slightly less affectionate with his shoulder pat, but he still regards him warmly.

Even after his parents have sent him to sleep, Stan pages through the book, absorbing the information like a sponge, eating all of the information up hungrily. He finally drifts off late in the night, his thumb still caught in his last page.


	2. A Boy Called Richie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley meets Richie through their first little league practice together.

Stan runs his hand over his silky baseball uniform. Brand new. It should not be so wrinkly but the plastic packaging left it with creases that Stan's hands can't flatten and it's causing him distress.

He looks in the mirror, tucking his curls under the red cap his mom had given him to keep the sun off his head and keep him from getting too crispy. He sticks his leg out closer to the mirror, looking at the string falling from the hem, he loves baseball but this uniform isn't up to par with the messy stitching and the wrinkles.

He lets out a sigh and bends down to tighten his shoelaces for the sixth time since he'd originally tied them. Finally, he's as ready as he'll ever be. First little league practice. He's been looking forward to it more than he can explain. Even now at eight years old, he's not the most social. He's homeschooled for the majority of his schooling due to the fragility of his young immune system.

Little league. His chance to change and socialize and maybe even be good at something. He taps the sneakers on the wood floor three times each before swiveling around and out his bedroom door. He calls down the staircase to his mother finally, "Mom! I'm ready!" he announces.

He holds the railing as he runs down the stairs. He brushes his hand on his pants once he gets downstairs, already feeling a bit dirty from touching the railing.

He finds Andrea in the kitchen, "I'm ready," he says again in case she hadn't heard him when he was upstairs. She smiles warmly at him and brushes her hands over her own apron.

"Alright, just let me get my shoes," she tells him, patting his shoulder as she walks past him to go slip on the flats she always wears.

She hangs up her apron on the hook, she'd been baking so it was covered in flour. She comes back to Stan, "Let's go," she tells him, walking to the door, holding it open for him and following him to the car.

He climbs into the passenger seat despite probably being below the requirements to sit in it but he likes the idea of feeling older and responsible in this seat.

He buckles in, pulling at the buckle several times until it feels tight enough to feel secure. He looks over at his mom as she starts the car, "What if the kids don't like me?" He asks, creasing his eyebrows in concern. The thought of being disliked by his peers hasn't even come up until now, it suddenly came to him now that it feels so much more real.

"Don't worry about that, sweetheart, they'll love you, and you'll probably know some of them," she tells him, gesturing with one of her hands as she talks while she keeps on safely on the wheel as she pulls out of the driveway.

Stan chews his lower lip, though he'll be bothered by how chapped they'll be because of it. He looks out the window and watches the houses pass by all the way to the lot across from the park.

There's already some kids there, and there's a mom with the stereotypical soccer mom haircut talking to the coach, no doubt trying to confirm her child's success on this team in a way that's unfair to the rest of the children.

His mom looks over at him, "We're here," she says as she stops the car, as if he can't tell while looking through the window the entire ride.

Stan nods, running a hand through his dark hair. He unbuckles, sliding out of his seat without another word to his mom, too overwhelmed to say anything else. He tends to overstimulate easily, his anxiety getting the best of him with little effort.

He stares at the ground as he walks, fiddling with his fingers until he gets to the edge of the grass where it meets the dusty baseball field. He looks up again, scanning the field for who's around him. He doesn't recognize the kids. None of them are in any of his classes, but maybe that's for the best.

He obviously zones out for just a bit too long because a boy with brownish hair bounds over to him, waving his hand in Stan's face. "Hey! Look alive!" The boy nearly shouts, leaving Stan flinching in response.

"Uh- hello to you too," Stan says once he recovers from the shock, "I'm Stanley," he introduces, just as his mother taught him to.

"That's boring, Stan my man, I'm Richie, but if you ask me that's a pretty boring nickname, considering Dick can be short for Richard," he says as he claps his hand on Stan's back, waggling his eyebrows around. He only whispers the word dick, he's obviously very out there but he doesn't want to be scolded by the coach, he already has been today.

"I prefer Stanley," Stan says quietly, his voice trailing off as he tries to get the words out even through his shyness. Richie doesn't seem to hear, already leading him around the field. 

"Welcome to Little League, my mom made me join to get my energy out, but if you ask me I think I don't need to get it all out, gotta save some for tomorrow!" The boy jokes, spinning around as he walks in order to start walking backwards to face Stan.

Stan just nods timidly, he doesn't mind the boy's behavior as much as he thought he would, although he still is unsure how to respond, maybe he isn't even supposed to, the other boy seems to just like to hear himself talk with no responses necessary.

Richie continues to jabber on, he's particularly expressive, Stan almost scared that he'll mistakenly whack him in the face with all his gesturing.

Stan smiles a little to himself, realizing that maybe Richie does just like to hear himself talk, but at least he chose _him_ to talk to. 

They're both distracted from the bliss of their interaction by the piercing ring of the coach's whistle, their gazes flying to the man instead of each other. 

He calls all the kids over to him. Richie takes Stan's hand haphazardly as they run across the field to hear their directions, kicking dust up as they go. Stan is surprised when he does, but surprisingly didn't mind it as much as he usually would. Maybe it's even nice.


	3. The Barrens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan finally makes friends whom he feels he can trust.

Stan soon takes to playing at the barrens with Richie. It’s smelly and dirty and objectively, he really doesn’t like it at all. But Richie jumps around with loud cackles and squeals so the play area at least gives Stan the atmosphere of somewhat having fun. Stan is usually bothered by loud noises and people touching him. But with Richie he seems to have gotten more used to it, which is important considering it’s how Richie tends to socialize and show he cares about people.

When he tells Andrea where he’s been playing she’s nothing short of shocked. She doesn’t scold him though, only telling him to dress better suited for his playing. She goes out and gets him a t-shirt that was once his dad’s and a pair of denim shorts along with a cheap pair of tennis shoes. He puts on the new outfit and finds that he doesn’t like how the jean fabric has an abrasive texture on the skin around his thighs, but he takes to wearing them to the barrens anyways because his mother surely knows best.

Bill Denbrough, a boy who he knows vaguely from Richie’s stories and his close friend Eddie soon join in on the activities. Eddie is like Stan in a way, a distant kind. They both stand to the side more than they play unlike the other two boys. Stan takes a liking to the new members of his circle, though they probably can’t tell because he doesn’t really tend to talk too much.

“You don’t really say much. Is is because Richie talks so much and too much that you got tired of him butting in when you tried to talk?” Eddie asks Stan one day, sitting on the thick roots of a tree in the barrens. Richie and Bill are up to nearly their knees in the murky water, before answering Stan taps his ankles on the ground to loosen the dirt crusted to the bottoms of his shoes.

“Nah, I just find it in better interest to just listen. If I’ve got nothing actually important to say, why fill empty space with my words?” he asks, his tone taking on a sort of “what right do I have to disturb the universe?” attitude to it, probably something to do with all the thinking he does when he’s forever silent.

Eddie nods in response, it’s a good enough answer for him, he’s all bark and hardly any bite. Stan must have a pretty good bite, Eddie decides, practicing it the time his mouth is shut. He saves all of his strength and energy for when it really does matter. “That’s respectable,” he says as he smiles a thin lipped smile that he usually reserves for when he’s talking to an adult. Stan feels enough like an adult to warrant it. Even in his play clothes he’s just like a smaller grown-up. The kids don’t mind that though, the losers don’t mind, he’s cool enough to hang around.

What confuses them though is that they don’t see him during their Sunday morning church services, Richie knows why but the others don’t as much. One day, out of pure curiosity, Eddie decides to ask why. “Say, Stanny, is there a reason that you and your parents don’t go to church? I’ve just realized that I’ve never seen or heard of you guys there, not even on a holiday,” the question comes out innocently.

“Pretty sure it’s because we’re Jewish,” he says with a little scoff kind of laugh. “We kinda believe similar stuff to you guys but not all the way, follow the books different,” he shrugs in response. To be frank, he doesn’t know much about what they even do at church. He’s been to the synagogue a few times but only on holidays and special occasions really. It’s almost like how Bill’s family went to church all the time after Georgie died but then they just stopped going altogether. Though Stan’s family doesn’t have much of a reason, they’ve just never gone much. They still consider themselves Jewish but they don’t tend to follow their religion too closely, the parts they do follow feel more like a duty only because of their heritage. 

Bill nods in a slight understanding. “S-so what’s J-jewish church like? Ours is weird, they give us cr-crackers that feel like f-f-f-foam in your mouth and then we g-get sips of the gross b-bitter red juice,” he explains, making a face at the memory of the wine. He doesn’t really remember what it’s called. His parents just call it juice, they drink a lot of it, and it’s better for their eleven year old to go around saying they drink a lot of juice instead of them drinking a lot of wine. Before Georgie they hadn’t really drank the wine, and they didn’t start bringing it around the house again until after what happened to Georgie. His parents always slur their words when they drink it and just call it “adult juice”. He doesn’t want to ask what it is, he just knows he doesn’t really want to drink as much of it as they do. He already has enough trouble speaking clearly.

Stan mirrors Bill’s sour expression. He’s learned that mirroring is a good way to express empathy in a way that other people will better understand, “Sounds boring.”

“It is, then an annoying old man rambles for like two hours,” Eddie adds. “He tells like the same story every time too, Jesus is fine and all, but the preach is kinda tiring,” Eddie shrugs with his words, looking up at the sky. His momma tells him that Jesus is always listening. He doesn’t want trouble with the big guys upstairs.

“Kinda how it is when I go to my nona and gramps’ place,” Stan laughs, putting his hand over his mouth to suppress the childish giggle that comes with his own joke. The other losers look around at each other before joining in on the laughter.

“Hey, I like church! It’s like story time at the library but it’s actually real,” Richie says, whimsey in his eyes as he recalls the lesson from the last church service. “And they tell people to be nice to other people, so at least they’re nice!” Richie brings up, pointing around at the others with his point, one of those people who needs to move their hands as they speak. He likes church and he believes most of what they say to him, it brings him comfort just as it makes his mother, Maggie, feel better in times of trouble.

“That’s true,” Bill says with his own shrug, he doesn’t know how he himself actually feels about church, but he’s not planning to get into an argument with Richard “never stops talking” Tozier any time soon. Besides, why fight him on something that brings him comfort in hard times, how Bill would love to have something that makes him feel that way.

After a few moments of silence aside from the sound of running water, Stan speaks again, “Would you guys wanna sleep over tonight? My mom would make a nice pasta dish and we can build a fort in the living room and watch movies,” Stan suggests, really he’s been working up to asking them this whole time. His mom and dad have been really curious of the friends he’s always talking about, almost like they don’t believe he could have made a group of friends so fast after being a loner all this time and how he’s always had trouble with social interaction. Not only do they want proof of the friends but they’re so proud of him if it’s true that they’re fully willing to take in the three of his friends as if they’re their own children.

“I’ll have to ask my ma, she’s calmed down a little this week because she got a massage, but she’s still Sonia,” Eddie says sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck with sweaty fingers. He doesn’t like to ask his mom for things, she always says no and it’s just embarrassing when she does. He’d rather pretend that he’s in control by just staying within her guidelines of either what she’s okay with or what she won’t be able to find out about. A sleepover is a bit hard to hide, sneaking out at night is more risky than he’s willing to try.

“I c-can come, my m-mom’s show is on tonight, I just need to v-vacuum the living room for h-her before, but then I’m free to do whatever,” Bill says, then he looks over at Richie who is also nodding to show that he’ll be able to come.

“My mom can getcha a ride if you need it or’d like Billy-Boy,” Richie offers, Maggie Tozier loves Bill Denbrough nearly as much as she loves her own son. He spends many nights at the Tozier house, sometimes even for two nights in a row on weekends, even back when school was still in session. Wentworth has a sneaking suspicion that he’s hiding something. He sees th far away sadness in Bill’s eyes when he goes quiet at the dinner table.

“I’d like th-that,” Bill says with a nod, getting a ride is so much easier than having to walk all the way. It’s tiring to walk and sometimes makes him get all sore in his legs. The other boys have bikes but Bill’s doesn’t fit his long legs, he’s saving for a new one so he can go riding with the others on the trails for fun instead of trying to run along with them on foot.

Richie gives him a nod and a tongue click tied with double finger guns. “I’ll see you all later, gotta make sure that I have clean clothes to pack for tonight. Wouldn’t want a stinky sleepover would we?” he jokes, jumping up onto his feet and dashing over to his red bicycle. When Richie leaves, Eddie realizes that he ought to as well.

Bill and Stan are left sitting there in silence for a few moments before Bill gives Stan one of his usual awkward smiles. “I sh-should start walking so I can f-finish my chores and come over later,” he says as he uses the heels of his hands to help himself up to his feet. He tucks his hands in his shorts pockets to walk his way back to his house, excited not to be staying there tonight while his mom’s drama show is on. She gets a little wild after it ends.

Stan sits alone but he still smiles. He feels normal for one of the first times in his young life up until now. He doesn’t work the way most of the other kids do, but right now, it doesn’t even matter. He rides his bike home and tells his mom all about how his friends said yes and they’ll be over tonight. It’s then when he wonders what movies they’d like. Maybe something Disney, he knows he liked Inside Out when he saw it but he’s not sure that they like animation. He knows that Bill and Richie like to go see the horror pictures at the theatre. Maybe he ought to find some of those for their group to watch.

The boys all arrive around six as expected. Eddie surprisingly was able to come and also caught a ride with Mrs. Tozier so the three of them all came together. They carry in their bags, Eddie’s all just in his empty school bag, Bill’s all in a red fabric grocery bag. Richie’s stuff is all wrapped in a blanket. His mom regards this with some embarrassment but she lets him do it anyways. She even comes to the front door with the three of them. Bill rings the doorbell because he got there first and Donald comes to meet them at the door.

Stan’s father looks bit surprised when he opens the door to the three freckled faces. “Evening boys, why don’t you come on in?” he suggests with a swooping gesture of his arm, letting Maggie go back to her car as the boys trail in one after another into the house. Donald can’t even remember a time Stan has had friends over before, this very well could be a first.

Andrea has dinner on the table, chicken and pasta salad, just like Stan had talked about at the barrens earlier. The meal is good and the parents ask the boys about their hobbies and about how they do in school. Richie tells his more parent friendly jokes, not wanting to make that bad of an impression right off the bat, he’ll ease into it more slowly. Bill, as always, hardly says anything, just shovelling his mouth with food. He’s always quiet, and Richie sees him eat like that whenever he’s over there for meals. It doesn’t make sense to him though, despite it seeming like he eats like a madman he stays an unhealthy looking kind of boney. Eddie was once like him but he’s taken on more of his mom’s unhealthy eating habits. Both Stan and Richie are lean but more on the healthy side.

After dinner, Andrea excuses Stan from cleaning up to instead drag off the dining chairs to build a fort in the living room to watch the movies in. Donald and Andrea had eyed Stan oddly when he’ requested that they rent a few horror movies. Stan has never been one to like horror. He explains that his friends like them, they’re his guests so his goal is to please them here.

The boys get changed into their pajamas ad all sat under the blanket draped over the backs of the chairs they’d dragged in here. The movie Stan wanted to watch with them was Annabelle. This may not have been the best choice on his part. Richie has seen this one before but he doesn’t admit that that is why he’s not absolutely shitting his pants this time. Bill isn’t very scared of dolls so the movie doesn’t hit him too hard. They think of him as the brave one for a reason. Eddie and Stan are huddled up in the corner of the fort, both trembling in fear at the movie.

When the movie ends they all lay under the fort with the pillows and blankets. Bill falls asleep first, starting with snoring until it turns into quiet sobbing in his sleep. Stan goes to wake him up but Richie stops him with hand on his arm, “Don’t worry about it, he does that, he doesn’t remember it in the morning. Waking him up just embarrasses him,” Richie says in a soft voice. He can come off as nothing but the comedic relief of the group sometimes, but he really does care about his friends. “Besides, I think that it helps him. Needs to release it all somehow. We all know that he won’t work through it any other way,” he says with a smile that doesn’t really mean anything. Richie soon turns over and falls asleep pretty quickly. Richie snores too but the constance of the sound can be comforting.

Stan thinks that he’s the only one left awake then until he hears a small voice mumbling something over and over and he comes to realize that it’s Eddie talking to himself. “No creepy doll, no creepy doll,” over and over again to calm himself.

Eddie jumps when Stan reaches over and taps him softly. Stan makes a face of pure apology when Eddie’s gaze snaps over to him. “The movie got you scared shitless too?” Stan asks, seeing Eddie’s expression flicker to something softer before he nods. Eddie looks back over at Bill’s sleeping figure to see that he’s not crying anymore so he feels alright scooting closer to Stan. 

“Don’t think I’ll ever sleep again,” he jokes slightly, a small giggle passing his lips, “My mom would never let me watch something like that at home.” Stan pulls him in for a hug.

“Me neither,” Stan says with a small chuckle of his own.

It really does feel like they’ll never sleep again but they do eventually. In the morning Andrea Uris comes into the living room to find Stan and Eddie wrapped around each other and fast asleep. She smiles to herself and simply goes to the kitchen to make breakfast for the four boys. She hums to herself the whole time, she doesn’t think she’s ever been happier for her son’s social life than she is now.


End file.
